Not Always the Strong One
by Teary-Eyed Angel
Summary: Sometimes, even a warrior needs a guardian angel. Only when she's alone does she let her weakness show. Post both series. Better explanation inside.


Disclaimer: Um, yeah, no

Disclaimer: Um, yeah, no. I can't even afford to go to the fair this year.

A/n: I was at work, reading "Queen of the Slayers" by Nancy Holder and there was a line said by one of the girls that just triggered this little snippet. It may be a bit confusing with the setting, but let's just say post NFA. The Scoobies set up a training school for the girls. That's a popular theory.

She was staring out the window when he found her. The almost imperceptible shake of her shoulders and the nearly inaudible sobs alerted him to her condition.

It wasn't the first time he had found her crying. And, as he had learned from those previous experiences, nothing he could do or say could stop the tears.

They all saw the hardened warrior she had become. That was the mask she wore for them. But when she was alone, she let the tears fall for all of those who had done the same. She cried for those she had loved and lost; she cried for those whose names she couldn't remember; she cried for those she couldn't save. She could look into the dead eyes of a fallen warrior without blinking, but those eyes always haunted her later.

He silently closed the door when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Willow.

"Twenty-two. Twenty-two dead. It's not as bad as the last one, but…" she trailed of and he let her thought go unfinished. They all knew what came after the 'but.'

"She knows how many fell, doesn't she? She's seeing their faces in her head; going over details; trying to find a way to blame herself."

He only nodded. Willow knew how much each death cost her. It was a well-known and never-spoken-of fact among the Scoobies. Each death took a little more of their souls; a little more of their will to fight.

Each of them cried, but the Slayer was supposed to be strong. She had to lead them, not coddle them. Emotion was a weakness. Never show a weakness in battle.

It was only after the battle had been fought and the dead had been buried that she found a room away from everyone and everything and showed her weakness to its walls.

She heard the whispers and the accusations. She had no emotions; she didn't care. And that is exactly what she needed them to think. Because as long as they thought she didn't care, they wouldn't come after her; they wouldn't see her break down her own carefully built walls. They wouldn't know she was weak. And they would follow her, because she was strong.

"You should go in there." Willow's voice brought him from his thoughts. "You're the only one she'll let herself be weak around. After all, you are the one that makes her weak."

He didn't let his mind dwell on the negative meaning of those words; just smiled back at the witch.

"I'll go share some California comfort with the girls. You take care of ours."

He waited until her footsteps were only a faint whisper before he opened the door once again. Silently, he slipped inside and closed it behind him, trapping the world outside.

By the time she turned to the silent click, he was there; his arms around her.

He didn't try to soothe her fears or silence her cries. He simply held her; let her know that, even if she had convinced herself that she had to be strong for the world, his arms were her safe haven; her escape. She didn't have to be the Slayer in his arms. She just had to be Buffy.

He couldn't recall how long she had been in his arms-time always stood still when she was around-when she silently asked him a question every warrior has asked themselves a thousand times over.

"Why do we fight?"

He could have given her the same answer everyone else would have. But the standard "To save lives," didn't seem right when 22 girls were dead. He had thought about this question a lot after each and every death of one he loved. The only answer he could come up with; the only one that made sense was, "So others don't have to."

"Does it ever get easier?" The silent _to watch them die _hung in the air.

For this, he gave the only answer there was. "No."

He felt her sigh against his chest a moment before her lips touched the spot her breath had vacated.

"Thank you."

He didn't need to ask what for. The list was too long. For being there; for not judging; for not lying to spare the pain but in truth only causing more; for so much more she couldn't say.

She pulled away from his embrace slowly. She wiped the lingering tears from her face and stood up straight. "How do I look?"

So many words came to his mind, but she had heard them all before. He settled on what she needed to hear at that moment. "Strong."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Time to face the world again." She strode towards the door; the only barrier between the girl and the warrior. The moment she twisted the knob, she reached for him.

Sometimes, ever a warrior needs a guardian angel.


End file.
